Writing As Thinking - A random weekend in March
It’s been nearly 16 months since I last posted in my blog.
In that sixteen months, I lost one job, gained another in a new field, started an internship for my masters program, and graduated from that master’s program.
I’m writing this post after a long weekend of feeling like a failure. I am on the verge of moving across the country, once again. This requires a lot of packing and planning. I’m very behind on all of this. I can’t help but to feel like a failure. Three days of slothing around, and in my mind, it undoes 16 months of progress. I graduated with a masters degree. I officially started a career in the behavioral health field. I’m moving across the country because I got a new position in-line with this education level. I’ve met dozens of new people, many of whom I call friends. And yet, after the past three days, I’m telling myself that I’m a failure.
Using time wisely is a not fixed skill. It’s not something that one learns and practices perfectly from then on.
For his book, Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals, Oliver Burkeman asks some friends and acquaintances how many weeks the average human lives. Responses ranged from 10,000 to hundreds of thousands of weeks. The answer? Four thousand. A measly four thousand.
“Mortality makes it impossible to ignore the absurdity of living solely for the future.”
Perhaps one of my greatest faults is my rumination and catastrophizing. Hence, all it takes to undo months of progress in my own head is a a single bad weekend. Worse, the thoughts continue from there. The excuses and the esoteric ramblings of someone simultaneously experiencing a lack of stimulation and a lack of direction. I’ve so much to say about Four Thousand Weeks, particularly its commentary of convenience culture and hustle culture and the way that I’ve, in years past, enslaved myself to them both.
But that’s part of why this next move of mine will be so important. I’m not just moving away to break some routines. I’m not moving for a change a scenery to a place of equal population density and cafes per capita.
I’m moving to the Arctic Circle. There’s not much of a convenience culture in a place like that. Ordering something from Amazon that takes two weeks to arrive is the essence of convenience that will still exist. No fast-food, no on-demand services outside of the streaming, and nothing to be taken for granted.
Rather than read about hustle and convenience cultures and internalizing equal parts shame and determination to break myself free, I’m putting myself into a position where I will not have a choice. It’s probably not going to be permanent. I’ve signed a two-year agreement with my new employer, so it’s not exactly a short stay, either.
This is all where it starts to get into the rambling. I am writing this to give myself space to put some thoughts out into the digital ether. Thoughts that may get read by a few people, thoughts that my get ignored, thoughts that may encourage others to reach out in accountability. Whatever the case, I’m getting older and there are several key accomplishments I’ve not made in my life yet. I want to use my time while I’m young.
“I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.”
Head photo courtesy of Aron Visuals.